


(Downward) Spiral

by xiubaekist



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - EXORIOR, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, One Shot, Photographer!Chanyeol, Stripper!Baekhyun, Toxic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 23:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiubaekist/pseuds/xiubaekist
Summary: Before Chanyeol died, he wasn't really living. Controlled by Byun Baekhyun and his little bags of 'witch hazel', Chanyeol was dead long before the accident that ended his life.





	(Downward) Spiral

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [EXORIOR: The Last Encounter](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/449429) by CRACKHEAD AU GC. 



> a one shot set in the EXORIOR murder mystery AU universe. please leave kind comments and share!

Chanyeol always felt out of place here. If he was being honest, unless he was high off his ass, his social anxiety got the best of him and caused unnecessary embarrassment. It wasn’t like he _looked_ out of place, though, so what was there to worry about? In fact, he looked like he _belonged_ here. His pretty face and fashion style blended him right in with the world of the people on stage; enough that he got a lot of requests for private dances that he had no idea how to give.

 

Focusing, the heavy bass could be felt in his chest and when he laid his hand over his heart, two beats could be felt together. He loved that feeling. Baekhyun made him love it.

“You’re here!” A voice yelled from across the room, over the loud music, and Baekhyun could be seen waving his hand above his head. “I knew you’d come!” He continued, running past the customers and other performers. 

Before Chanyeol could get out a word, Baekhyun was wrapped around him. His fingertips pressing into the back of his neck, chest up against his.

“What did you get tonight?” 

“A LOT of money, of course!” Baekhyun laughed, pulling back. “And… Some witch hazel.” He smirked, patting his left pocket.

“I hate that you use so much slang,” Chanyeol replied, “just call it Heroin.”

“Shhhh!” Baekhyun shoved a finger on his lips. “Everyone does it, but it is still illegal.”

“Right…”

 

Quickly, Chanyeol was being dragged to a back room by the wrist. He always knew what was going to happen when he came to visit Baekhyun at work, but he was still always shocked when it all unraveled.

They ended up in the same back room they always did—a storage room, maybe? Chanyeol never paid much attention—and the look in Baekhyun’s eyes shifted as he pulled a bag out of his pocket.

It was a ziplock bag, filled with syringes, metal spoons, lighters, cotton balls, citric acid, water, alcohol swabs, and the only thing that mattered: the fine, light brown powder that controlled their lives.

 

“Sit.” Baekhyun commanded, opening the bag and dumping the contents out on the nearest thing he could use as a table.

Chanyeol obeyed. He always obeyed.

Before he knew it, he had everything in his hands and Baekhyun was on the floor in front of him. He needed help. He hated needles, but he loved the Heroin. Baekhyun had to help him.

“I hate this.” Chanyeol admitted.

“No, you don’t.” Baekhyun retorted.

He took the shoelace off of his sneaker and wrapped it around his upper arm, tying it tightly. Ouch, he whispered to himself.

He shut his eyes tightly as Baekhyun prepared everything. The sound of the spoon stirring in the smooth powder, the citric acid and water being poured on top of it rang in his ears. The _chk!_ of the lighter startled him, and he opened his eyes to see the final step: the liquefied powder being pulled into the syringe.

“Baekhyun-”

“Don’t look.”

He pushed his head to the side with his free hand and then grabbed his arm, plunging the needle into his prominent vein. “Breathe,” he said as Chanyeol tensed, “just breathe.”

The pain from the prick and the pressure from the liquid rushing into his bloodstream made him gasp, and by the time he opened his eyes again, he was feeling the effects. It was always so fast. Like it went ninety miles an hour through his body, flooding him with euphoria in a short few seconds. The injection was what made it so fast, and he craved the needle even if he couldn’t look at it.

He smiled.

Baekhyun untied the shoelace and removed the needle, smiling back at the Chanyeol who was now far from the person he was thirty seconds ago.

“I love you.” Chanyeol said.

“I know.” Baekhyun replied.

He had Chanyeol tie the shoelace around his arm for him, and he was quick to stab himself when he was done prepping. He didn’t need help. This was something he didn’t fear.

 

“I love… us.” Chanyeol leaned forward as Baekhyun removed his own needle, tossing it on the floor and pulling off the shoelace. “We’re good together, right?”

“Yeah, Yeollie. We’re good together.”

 

He lied.

 

Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol were far from good together, and Baekhyun knew this. Somewhere, deep down, he knew this.

Whenever Chanyeol was with Baekhyun, he was manipulated. Abused. Bruises littered his body when he didn’t listen and the echoes of degrading words repeated in Chanyeol’s head long after they parted. Baekhyun was the worst thing for Chanyeol, but he was brainwashed to believe otherwise.

 

_Borderline Personality Disorder._

 

That’s what was wrong with Baekhyun, alongside a slew of other undiagnosed mental instabilities and self-mutilating tendencies. His specialty was manipulation. Unintentional.

He knew how Chanyeol’s brain worked—how to rewire it for his own greedy needs. There were certain words that broke him down and certain words that built him back up. To Baekhyun, Chanyeol was a Lego toy, and block by block he was made and remade into whatever he was being used for: a sexual encounter, a junkie best friend—a few bullet points on the back of his box. Things he could be made into.

 

“Let’s go out,” Chanyeol said, shining his smile brightly as if the piece of shit closet they were in was heaven. “Let’s dance.”

“You hate dancing.”

“I love watching you dance.”

Baekhyun picked himself up, grabbing Chanyeol with him. “I have a better idea.”

He cocked his head curiously.

“Do you have your camera in your car?”

“I take it everywhere with me.” Chanyeol confirmed, and Baekhyun thought for a moment.

“Let’s photograph our night,” He proposed, gathering all of their things back into their ziplock bag, “I can get some things from backstage.”

 

The ‘things’ aforementioned were a variety. Handcuffs, edible lubricant, and a pair of Baekhyun’s favorite high heels highlighted the collection. Chanyeol was excited.

 

Truthfully, Chanyeol should have never gone with Baekhyun. He should have never agreed to try Heroin on their second date, and he should have never come back for more before his addiction began because he was told it was ‘alright’. Park Chanyeol should have never gotten involved with Byun Baekhyun. Because if he didn’t, he would be living. He would be happy. He wouldn’t be a toy used for whatever need Baekhyun had on a whim and he wouldn’t be so fucking sad when he was on his own.

The things he went through traumatized him, but there was some part of him that wanted to stay even when he was self-aware.

 

“Please,” Yixing pleaded, “leave him.”

“I can’t.” Chanyeol admitted. It was true. He couldn’t.

 

On the nights they got high, they got along. At least, it looked like they did. They’d shoot up, make out, fuck, and depart. There was no violence. Not if Chanyeol listened. Those nights were the easiest to listen.

Baekhyun gave such simple commands on some days and such difficult ones on the others. Chanyeol always did his best, and even though Baekhyun would punch him in the jaw, he followed up with a soft “I love you” and a bitter-sweet kiss. How was he supposed to leave?

 

This night was an easy one for Chanyeol. In their booked hotel room, the euphoria between them stirred a fire. Baekhyun handcuffed him and made him beg, taking pictures of how appealing he looked in that position on his knees.

 

“Please.” Chanyeol would say.

Baekhyun really never knew if it was sincere or not.

 

Soon, though, Chanyeol would be ripped from the lives of Baekhyun and everyone around them. Then, only then, would everything surface from the mouth of Zhang Yixing and would Byun Baekhyun fully realize just how bad he was for his junkie lover.

Only then would he start his downward spiral, discovering who he truly was as he feared for his own life, the same way Park Chanyeol did every second they were together.


End file.
